


Straining

by Lovefushsia



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Hand Jobs, Implied Consent, M/M, Tied-up John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2019-01-16 19:43:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12349392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lovefushsia/pseuds/Lovefushsia
Summary: John and Sherlock are left tied up in a tiny room together during a case gone wrong. There's not much else for them to do now is there?"John," Sherlock said quietly, stirring John from an uncomfortable slumber. Neither of them had spoken for some time, impossible to tell how long since it was so bloody dark and they had been relieved of their watches and phones."Mmm?" John murmured stretching his back as much as he could in the confined space."Can I just say, again, how sorry I am to have got you involved in all this."





	Straining

**Author's Note:**

> I saw this wonderful art and I was inspired :D
> 
> http://doublenegativemeansyes.tumblr.com/post/27120225779/in-a-confined-space

"John," Sherlock said quietly, stirring John from an uncomfortable slumber. Neither of them had spoken for some time, impossible to tell how long since it was so bloody dark and they had been relieved of their watches and phones.

"Mmm?" John murmured stretching his back as much as he could in the confined space.

"Can I just say, again, how sorry I am to have got you involved in all this."

John blinked his eyes open and reached to rub them, but he swore under his breath for the hundredth time when he remembered the reason his wrists and hands were cold and a little numb was because they were strapped to either side of the wall of the ridiculously tiny room they'd both been shoved into. "Shit," he said.

Sherlock had somehow managed to have his own hands tied together instead of to opposite walls, but even so he hadn't managed to loosen the chains around John's hands. John suspected he hadn't tried very hard. They'd taken their shoes but really it was John who had come out of this worst. So far at least.

"I'm sorry," Sherlock said again, and John felt a hand on his wrist, massaging lightly as he had done earlier to try to keep the circulation going. He was sitting behind John, closest to the door which he had attempted to kick outwards for several minutes before giving up when John couldn't stand the racket anymore.

John hated not being able to turn enough to properly see behind him, hated being in this fucking hole of a room, hated being tied up. " _Bloody_ hell, Sherlock," he let out and then immediately calmed himself, as he had done with his previous outbursts. He knew it wouldn't help to lose control, he'd hurt himself or Sherlock and he didn't want that, despite how much he hated the git right now for getting them in here in the first place.

"You know they won't leave us in here much longer," Sherlock told him again.

"Oh really, and what makes you so damn sure?"

"I know these people John, they don't want two bodies on their hands. They're waiting for the negotiators to get it right."

"Negotiators," John nodded. "And what makes you so bloody convinced that they're even bothering to negotiate with anyone?"

"Because I'm Sherlock Holmes. They know what they're dealing with."

"And what about me? Hmm? I don't imagine they care so much about John Watson, retired army surgeon."

The hands on John's wrist stopped suddenly and Sherlock moved closer, John could feel his warmth at his back as Sherlock peered over his shoulder. He reluctantly craned his head to the side so he could see better.

"John, I wish you would stop putting yourself down. Why would they have bothered to chain up someone they had no intention of using as bait?"

"Bait? Oh yeah, that's charming," John said, suddenly having an image of rats, or hungry dogs being let loose in here with John helpless to save himself, or Sherlock. His heart was racing as Sherlock's hands slid around his chest and held him.

"John, please, calm down, it's ok."

"It's not ok, Sherlock, how is this in _any_ way going to be ok?" He couldn't stop his voice from rising. He was angry and he was scared and he hadn't expected either of those things when he woke up this morning. "I'd rather be in a checkout queue than here. I'd rather be cleaning the toilet than be here. I'd rather be anybloodywhere else than here right now!" He realised belatedly that Sherlock's hands were both around his chest, separately, from either side.

"How the hell did you free your hands?" he asked in surprise.

"You didn't think I'd been sitting here doing nothing?"

"Well, no, I thought..." And then it hit him that Sherlock's hands were around his chest. Holding him. Embracing him. Easing him back against his own chest. "Uh, Sherlock, what are you doing?" he said as he felt fingers working gently at his shirt buttons.

"I'm trying to help you to relax," Sherlock murmured into his ear.

"What the-" He let out a sigh as warm fingers slipped beneath the creased fabric of his shirt and smoothed across his chest, circled his nipples, scraped gently over his ribs until it became ticklish. Sherlock had unfastened all the buttons by now, leaving John's shirt open, and gentle fingers were tugging it off his shoulders, down his arms, restricting John's movement even further. At this point though John really didn't care. Sherlock's hand had drifted down to his stomach, splayed wide across his abs. John looked down as those fingers slipped into his waistband and his intake of breath was sharp and sudden.

"Sherlock," he gasped.

Lips at his neck made him raise his head again and almost distracted him from the fact that his jeans had just been popped open, and with both hands on his hips Sherlock was now easing him up and back, so that John was now resting on one of Sherlock's spread thighs.

"Oh God," he said, head lolling onto Sherlock's shoulder. "Please," he murmured.

Sherlock didn't waste time. His hand was back inside John's pants in a moment, cupping and fondling at his quickly hardening crotch. With his other hand Sherlock slid up his back and grabbed at John's hair, pulling him none-too-gently into a kiss. John's lips parted instantly, moaning into Sherlock's mouth as he tried to stay still. The fact that he couldn't reach for Sherlock was now almost as frustrating as being chained to the walls in the first place.

"Don't pull," Sherlock warned softly. "Don't hurt yourself. I've got you."

John closed his eyes and Sherlock's lips met his again in a deep kiss. He pushed John's underwear aside, taking him in hand with a firm, sure grip which had John jolting with pleasure from the first touch.

His hips were writhing on Sherlock's lap - he couldn't keep still with the need to touch, to have more. He bit and sucked and turned the kiss into a wild thing to compensate for the rest of his body being completely at the mercy of the man under him. John had never felt such a heady mix of pleasure and discomfort, bordering on pain because he couldn't stop from yanking at the chains that bound him, his hands fisted as he strained.

Sherlock was pumping him steadily, kissing at John's mouth, his jaw and neck and coming back for more when John cried out. "Please, please," he repeated over and over, desperate to come amid so many sensations engulfing him.

Sherlock gripped at his hip now, pulling him down, forcing him close to his own hard cock which John could feel beneath him. He _wanted..._ he wanted so much more. "Sherlock-" he cried out again as his orgasm neared, waves of shuddering pleasure tensing his whole body, muscles going taut as he ground down against Sherlock's lap. He shoved up into Sherlock's fist and releasing a sound he'd never heard from himself he came in Sherlock's hand.

Afterwards, chest still heaving, he leaned back against Sherlock's firm body, felt the strength of his arms holding him up when he wanted to sag and fold up but couldn't due to the restraints.

Sherlock was murmuring in his ear, "It's ok, I've got you, I've got you."

John's eyes were closed, eyelashes damp and sweat cooling from the chill air over his exposed skin.

Finally he felt movement, fingers at his wrists, the scratch of metal on metal and the wonderful release of pressure as his arm was lowered gently to his side. He opened his eyes and immediately started to flex his freed hand while Sherlock worked at his other side. John just stared, wide-eyed as Sherlock picked the lock on the other chain and started to rub some feeling back into John's left arm.

John stared at him in the dim light.

"You couldn't have done that before?" he finally managed.

Sherlock had the decency to look a little shameful. "Didn't you enjoy it? We've always talked about it, I thought you might like the experience, while we had the chance."

"This wasn't quite what I'd imagined," John gritted out. But then he sighed and with tingling hands he took hold of Sherlock's face and kissed him. "Thanks," he said. "Of course I enjoyed it. I'm still going to kill you when we get out of here," he promised weakly.

But before that, he had some pay back to get to. "Where's that rope?" he asked.

Sherlock passed him the length that had been around his own wrists earlier. "What's your plan John?" he said and John winked.

"Turn around. It's my turn."

Sherlock was grinning widely as he complied. John still hoped they would be released sooner rather than later, but for now, he was sure they'd be able to pass the time pleasantly enough.

 

 


End file.
